Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Rich loam between my fingers,
grip of stems, roots, balls of grass
pull up through the rain drenched soil
smell of the mulch, the grass,
the water from heaven
A patch cleared of the unwanted
weeds pulled out of the garden
separated from the wheat,
the chaff for burning
a wonderful closeness to nature
to God’s lessons for us
through the work of my hands
pulling weeds in the garden

July 16, 2007 14:04

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